The Hawk's Nest
by DireWolf88
Summary: Clint Barton is happy. He's part of the Avengers, has a stable-ish home and family, and the woman of his dreams. Not even the weekly over-the-shelf bad guy can ruin his contentment. That is until Darcy reveals somthing that will change his life, along with the rest of the Avengers forever as they face a threat so great, it may halt the legacy before it even begins.


Another car flew past him, followed by the sound of a chest-rattling roar from the Hulk as Hawkeye ran for his next point of cover. He continued to notch arrow after arrow, finding to his immense relief that Stark's experimental weaponry was actual performing up to par. The gelatin-based expanding foam arrows were a particular favorite of his. It permanently took baddies out of the fight without adding another death notch to his already impressive score and it made imprisonment and clean up easy at the end of the battle. Agent Hill had already told him on several occasions that securing the site and all threatening personnel post-battle was no longer required of him thanks to his Avenger's status, but he was nothing if not thorough.

"Hawkeye, have you got eyes on Doom yet?" Captain America's voice rang out over the team's Comm.

"Negative. Scaling the Westside of the Baxter building now looking for a perch. Will give you a location on Dr. Dysfunctional as soon as I nail it down. Tell me again why Richards and his merry bunch aren't here dealing with this maniac? Isn't he one of theirs?" Clint responded.

"I told you Big Bird, I promised Mr. Stretch and his lady love that we would keep an eye on the Baxter Building while they were out-of-dimension. The negative zone won't study itself you know. Besides, this guy's not so tough…" Stark couldn't help but add his two cents.

Another explosion closer to the perimeter set up by SHIELD indicated the Doombots were gaining ground.

"Cut the chatter. Focus. Thor, bring the lightning. Use it herd the Bots away from the barrier. We don't want those tin cans getting anywhere near civilians." Rogers was a great commander. He used his natural leadership abilities to keep the larger-than-life people on track and working cohesively.

"Aye, my brother in arms. Fear not. I will not let the fiends past my guard." Thor's voice boomed over the city blocks, the Comm. unnecessary with his powerful voice.

Cap continued to give orders and soon the Doombots were defeated along with the three blood and flesh cronies that were controlling the machines. Clint had finally found the third man and without him at the helm, the Bots had simply frozen in place and self-destructed. Apparently, Doom had not yet managed to make the Bots self-actuating and had programmed a self-destruct routine in their systems as a failsafe plan to keep Richards, SHIELD, or any other organization from getting their hands on them.

Clint considered the day a win. No lives were lost. There was relatively little damage compared to some of their other outings, and the scientists were ecstatic because apparently, one of the Doombots' self-destruct sequences was faulty and it remained intact. A new toy for Stark and Banner to study and play with. Oh, joy. He was sure he'd be stuck in the air duct for days monitoring the men to make sure their experiments on the Machine O' Death were controlled and would not blow up the west wing of Avenger's Mansion or the men themselves. It had taken two long years since Loki's attack on New York for the level of camaraderie and trust to be developed between the members of this team and he was not going to lose any of them on his watch, especially not to their own child-like exuberance. He was most definitely NOT a sap but he may or may not have been caught on a scratchy I-Phone video proclaiming that Tony, Steve, Bruce, Thor, and Natasha were all more than just team and roommates to him- they were family. The only redeeming feature of that video was the fact that they had all agreed viciously followed by sloppy one-armed "man hugs" and the 12th round of beers and shots all around. They had all denied it the next day at breakfast until the video was played around the kitchen table and everyone simply grimaced and shrugged. It was true and it was the best thing that ever happened to Clint. Speaking of that video, its camera operator was all he could think about now. She would be happy to have him back home. Despite the short duration of this mission, she was always nervous when he went out because and he quotes "you are totes the most important person in all the worlds and dimensions to me and if anything happened to you I would be so freakin' pissed. So don't test me Featherhead". Clean up had been quick and Barton and the rest of the Avengers were now back at the mansion going their seperate ways after brief nods of satisfaction from all and warrior handshakes from Thor for a battle well fought.

Clint was now almost to his quarters where a hot meal, hot shower, and a smoking hot woman were waiting for him. He opened the door to their quarters and was greeted with…a dark kitchen and an empty apartment. "What the…?" he murmured softly. He instantly went from cozy boyfriend mode to master assassin and super-trained soldier setting. He pulled his bowie knife from its sheath at his calf, briefly regretting the absence of his bow, which was settled snug in the weapons locker with the rest of the Avenger's primary weaponry. He had other bow and arrow sets hidden throughout their apartment but he did not want to give away his location to any baddies that may be lurking. He held the knife at eye level in a firm grip trying to keep the panic out of his mind as he searched room after room for any sign of his woman or something out of place that may give him a clue as to what was going on. Nothing. Finally, he reached the master bedroom, which was also clear and heard a soft noise that sounded vaguely like retching coming from the Master bath. There was also a small sliver of light coming from beneath the door. He braced himself and barged through the doorway weapon raised and Hawkeye instincts prepared for anything. At least he thought so.

"Darcy? Baby, what the hell, are you okay?" He asked, a worried tone embedded in his voice. He rushed to kneel beside her and gathered her hair in a loose ponytail behind her head while she knelt over the toilet dry-heaving, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks.

She visibly gathered herself together and stood up on wobbly legs, Clint's strong arms supporting most of her weight. She washed her face and hands several times and brushed her teeth before she FINALLY acknowledged him. Her big blue orbs met his piercing grey ones in the mirror and she plastered on a fake smile that he saw right through.

"You're back early," she rasped through an obviously raw throat. He waited a few tense moments for her to continue but apparently that was all the answer he was going to get. He raised an eyebrow at her obstinacy and she simply looked away shyly, tucking loose strands behind her ear in a nervous gesture. This in itself bothered Clint. His woman was many things- funny, brash, loving, impetuous, determined, and drop-dead gorgeous. However, two things she most definitely was NOT- shy and nervous, least of all around him.

"Sweetheart, talk to me. Are you hurt? Did something happen?" He rubbed soothing circles into her biceps still standing behind her sheltering her small body with his much larger frame.

This combined with the slight panic she sensed in his voice seemed to do the trick. She spun around slowly and wrapped her arms around him burying her face in his muscular chest. Despite still being covered in sweat, dust, and Doombot motor oil, she nuzzled into him seeming to find comfort in his presence. "I'm sorry, babe. I'm fine. Just a bad batch of Pad Thai from lunch earlier. I have half a mind to march down there and show them what an angry girl well-versed in the art of social-media coverage could do to an establishment that thinks it is okay with poisoning its loyal patrons." She paused here to look up at him and offered him a gentle smile. It felt like a 100 lb weight had been lifted off his chest. She really had him worried for a few moments there. She continued, "Ugh, I can't believe you saw me hacking up my small intestine like that. So NOT mysterious and sexy, which was my original planned mood for our evening." Darcy winced and he hugged her even tighter resting his cheek on the top of her head.

"Don't be ridiculous baby. You have cared for me through the flu and more scratches and sprains than I care to count. A bit of food poisoning is nothing. Besides, you are NEVER sick. I kinda feel like I owe you one anyway." His attempt at humor appeared to be working its magic. She was slowly relaxing into him and he began to lead her out of the bathroom and toward their bed. He pulled back the covers and she crawled in without protest. He pulled the covers up and knelt beside her, one of his hands entwined with both of hers, the other stroking her forehead. It didn't feel like she had a fever, so that was a plus. After a few minutes, she drifted off. He stood up to go clean up but she grabbed his wrist in a surprisingly strong hold and looked up at him with a tired questioning expression.

"I'm just going to get a quick shower and scarf a ham sandwich down. I'll be back before you know it." He explained to her.

She smiled his one of his favorite Darcy smiles- the goofy happy one- and asked, "Promise?"

"Wild Hulks couldn't keep me away." He assured her with a wink and a grin. She giggled softly at his silliness and drifted back to La-La hand, her hand slowly dropping from his wrist. He briefly lamented its loss before realizing the quicker he was fed and cleaned up the quicker he could be back with her. He took a fast but thorough shower (seriously, saving the world was a nasty business) and fixed a simple ham and cheddar cheese sandwich on wheat which he ate in an impressive 45 seconds. Being in the military and on Special Ops taught him how to eat a meal in Olympic time without making himself sick. He sent a quick message to Natasha, explaining the situation and that he may be a few minutes late to the morning meeting (aka breakfast in the mansion's grand kitchen). She responded quickly telling him to take all the time he needed and get their girl back in fighting form. Darcy acted as a sort of overall personal assistant to the Avengers and was well loved by all. He shut his phone with a resounding click and slid into bed behind Darcy wearing only a pair of SHIELD issued sweats. He proceeded to mold his body protectively around Darcy's, wrapping one steely arm around her waist and draping a muscular leg over hers gently dragging her further into his heat. She snuggled in and he began to let his mind drift, not giving much thought to anything. Sure, it wasn't the homecoming he was expecting, but he was perfectly content to be exactly where he was- a successful mission, his family safely ensconced throughout the mansion, and lying body to body with the woman he loves. Neither the man nor the soldier in him could ask for anything more.

Darcy awoke sometime later in the night and turned around in his arms to draw lazy circle into his chest. He didn't wake up, which made her smile. For the first few months they had been dating, he would startle at every small noise or motion. Eventually, a short time after moving in together he began to sleep soundly and through the night. She took it as a sign of deep trust and connection in their relationship. The thought currently brought tears to her eyes and not in a "so happy I'm crying kind of way". She knew she should just tell him the truth, but was afraid of the consequences. Things were solid. He was happy and content for the first time in his harsh life. She did not want to be the one to ruin that.

_A baby, oh goddess, a baby. What was she going to do?_

She took a deep calming breath before her rapid heartbeat and slight shaking DID wake her attentive boyfriend. _I am a strong woman. I handle needy superheroes on a daily basis. I can most definitely handle this._

Clint couldn't know yet, of that, she was sure. He had surprised her earlier during a particularly violent bout of morning sickness. She had managed to play it off but felt horrible lying to him about it. Their relationship was built on absolute trust. He had even told her a few mission details that were above her clearance grade in order to satisfy her rampant curiosity. But she had been a coward. She had discovered the pregnancy 1 week ago while the team had been on a mission in Russia (something to do with one of Tasha's old nemeses). Clint had barely been back in town before Doom had sent the legion of lame and taken him away once again. He was here now though and still she couldn't bring herself to tell him. She would wait. For the opportune moment.

She smiled and snuggled into his impressive chest allowing herself a moment of peace. _I'm pregnant- with Hawkeye's baby…with CLINT's baby._ Her smile grew even wider and she took comfort in the fact that at least this little "unplanned mission" was with the man she loved. Yes, the implications were daunting and she still had to muster the courage to bring him and everyone else in the family into the loop, but this was something to be celebrated. Sleep eventually overtook her and she dreamed of little baby hawks breaking free of their eggs while she and Clint and the rest of the Avengers stood guard over the nest.


End file.
